PRESERVED ROSES
by Takai No Hibiki
Summary: SYOT Open In a world where magic exists and the Dark Days are dawning on Panem, the Capitol's living weapons are mobilized against the Districts. When one of them sides with the rebellion, the tides are turned and friendships die. This is a chronicle of the days leading up to and through the rebellion. PM Submissions Only!
1. Chapter 1

**Preserved Roses**

Summary: In a world where magic exists, special people are born who can harness this energy. As the Dark Days dawn on Panem, the Capitol's living weapons are mobilized against the Districts. When one of them sides with the rebellion, the tides are turned and friendships formed from shared adversity begin to break down.

Warnings: Semi-AU, magic exists, war, war crimes, mild slash relationships later on

SYOT Info: See my profile for submission information. I accept submissions through **PM **only. There are **9** spots open and this is **not **first-come, first-serve. There are no Hunger Games yet in this world. The **9** characters must be 15-20 years old and are magic users recruited by the Capitol as children. Only Districts 2, 3, 4, 6 and 11 are open for submission. Again, see my profile for more information.

Notes: This chapter is temporary and a teaser. The story may not actually end like this. Maybe it will, though. Who knows.

* * *

"Pressed under every brief and fleeting dream,  
The flower becomes a piece of eternity."

* * *

He doesn't look anything like how I remember him. In those days we were all young, I suppose, younger and full of tentative optimism for the future. We thought that because we held the power of the earth in our hands, we could rule the world. We thought that with power came the responsibility to use it justly, but all of that seems now like a product of our childhood, what the Capitol wanted us to believe and embrace.

Everyone knows that the rebellion is in its dying throes. There are no more men or women to fight. Everyone in this country, the Capitol too I suppose, is out of food and slowly starving to death. The fields are in tatters. Even if we drop all of our convictions at this very moment and go to work, there will be hundreds who die this year of starvation alone.

Some say that we brought it upon ourselves. The rebellion was doomed to failure from the moment of its creation. Maybe that is so, but addled by hunger and oppression, something had to change. Maybe all of these people really did die for nothing, maybe.

I almost expected to be struck down where I stand. Shadowed, bitter faces of people I once knew and perhaps even considered my family glared at me as I walked through the darkened halls. There are less of them now. I ignored the ones who are missing, focusing only on the uneasy path before me. The back of a younger trainee, an uncertain girl who could barely stand to have me at her back without bristling, led me forward.

Today is a day of peace. Just one day out of all these years of fighting. The rebellion's flames have waned, the embers are cooling and down in the Districts, everyone is wailing.

But today I am not back in the Capitol to face execution or to rejoin these people I once called my comrades. The threat certainly hangs over my head all through the journey here, through familiar halls now darkened and sooty, but no one has leveled their gun at my person. No one is willing to strike me where I stand.

I stared at the hollow eyes of someone I once laughed with during our childhood days. She is worn like the rest, her face creased so deeply it's a wonder that she could ever smile. She motioned to the door and let me inside.

That is when I see him, sitting alone on the edge of one of the low beds in what was once the boys' dormitory. The entire place is dim, dusty, and inhabited by a few scientists and former workers who assumedly had no where else to go. The rebellion has made an impact, certainly, though for how long it will last no one knows.

He turns his head to the door, ever alert, but his eyes are hazy and unsure, like he can't be certain that he is really seeing me. There is none of that desperate, vaguely hopeful, vaguely pained confusion that I last saw in his eyes. No amount of anger shows on his face as I walk closer to him. Like so many of the Capitol faces I have seen throughout the years, his features are sharp and streamlined. The mark of where we come from is in our bodies, always has been, but I wonder why it seems so much less vibrant now. When I look at him, all I see is the faint curiosity shining out of his eyes.

"...Do I know you?" he asks softly. His voice has always been light. Like a feather resting on a cloud in a gentle breeze, it is insubstantial, unreal. It holds no animosity anymore, no bitterness or despair. As I listen to these words, a flurry of memories come rushing back to me.

Memories of quick tempers and childish indignities, of a group of children who could work miracles but each lived in his or her own world, unwilling to let anyone else inside. It is as if none of this has ever happened and somewhere inside, deep inside, a certain something breaks.

My friends have died, some lay dying, and so many more who I will never know are suffering. I have seen them cry and burn with misplaced fury and indignity. They don't know where to turn anymore, but can't bear to say that deserve to suffer because we have lost and I would never tell them so, for it isn't true. I knew from the moment we stepped on the battlefield all those years ago that this was real, reality was this cruel and more.

But nothing really felt as real as seeing him smile emptily at me.

"What's your name?"

I have to turn away and hear his voice unwillingly.

"What happened?" I say hollowly. "Did they do something to him? I've heard about the hijack..."

"No," she said, "and yes. We didn't find out until after you left...by then, he'd already started forgetting."

"Forgetting?"

She nods. "Can you remember your fifth birthday?"

I frown and shake my head. "No," I say, "but isn't that perfectly normal? It's been years since then. There isn't much to remember. I had a good few years."

"None of us can remember," she fills in, "not that we don't want to, but we can't. It's not too pronounced for us. But for him, we started noticing when you left. He was forgetting simple things about his childhood at first, then he forgot how he met us. And you. Now he can't remember much of anything except the last few years or so."

I turn to look at him and see him holding a pale hand out, as if we are meeting for the first time. I reach out and take it in my hand and it is cold, freezing like he is already dead, but I see him breathing evenly.

"Hey," I say hesitantly, unwilling to let go. I know what happens when you let go. "I used to know you. Do you remember me?"

He blinks slowly and shrugs. But he stops to consider it, really think hard, and he is staring at me with those clear grey eyes and I can see a bit of what he used to be. "They all say that. You have pretty eyes. Maybe I know you. Knew you. Can you use magic, too?"

"I can," I say, but the words catch in my throat. I know what he wants to ask and I can't do it anymore, can't see it as a gift, can't see it as a miracle.

Miracles don't kill dozens of people in minutes.

"You can, too," I remind him.

"Yeah," he smiles. "I can still do that. Will you watch?"

I watch him twirl glistening drops of water in the air and turn it into snow that melts on my palms. And I sit there for the rest of the day until the sun starts bleeding into the horizon and know that this is the last time I will see him alive.

"I'm sorry it had to turn out this way," I mumble as I lean closer to him, our shoulders touching. The others have long left. The air up in these parts has always been thick and cloying, but now it is strangely airy, just the dust particles floating through the evening left. Maybe the fighting did more than I thought to this city. "I know you don't remember, but..."

"It's okay," he says. "I forgive you."

* * *

Again, just a temporary chapter. I would usually point you in the direction of the blog for my stories for end of chapter notes, but not for this one for now.

Fun fact? I only thought of this magic thing because I'm a huge science nerd and the impossible nature of some of the muttations bothers me. But with magic, anything is possible!


	2. Chapter 2

**Preserved Roses**

Chapter Summary: While undergoing a series of typical, but painful experiments, Deor has a chance encounter with the newest addition to the Capitol Institute for Human Improvement. However, the young boy from District 3 refuses to accept the reality of this ability called _Segen_, which allows them to bend the laws of nature.

Notes: Just a temporary chapter again. More of a draft this time.

* * *

**Chapter 1:** Division of Wills

He could hear the light _clink, clink_ of metal instruments and the rattle of the faulty light on the ceiling as it flickered madly. His eyes fluttered open in vain, seeing nothing except for the folds of the blindfold strapped across his face and the bright field of white from the lights above him. Seconds passed slowly and the muted voices around him shuffled across the room and flipped through papers and charts. The gentle hum of the air units filled the rest of the room.

A cold and sudden sensation in the crook of his arm startled him, though he had been expecting it this whole time. He didn't flinch, but his skin tingled as the scent of rubbing alcohol wafted up to his nose. He wriggled it and held his breath, holding in a sneeze.

Another light _click_ and he shifted on the hard exam table, tugging at the straps holding his arms and legs down. He quickly exhaled and drew in another breath.

They used to tell him that it would only hurt for a second, like a normal shot from the doctor's office, but they were flat-out lying. The sharp prick of pain zipped up his arm and left his fingers tingling, but he clenched his teeth and eyes shut as he waited the them to push the liquid into his arm. That was when it really hurt.

He couldn't really feel the liquid entering his bloodstream, but he felt the familiar burning sensation within seconds.

He screamed. It felt like electricity was flaying him alive, like every layer of skin, muscle, and bone was peeling away from him bit by bit, like his insides were turning to mush in seconds.

His voice cracked as he screamed and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He screamed until his throat was on fire, until he ran out of air and had to stop to gasp for air.

Deor was never good at judging the passage of time. But those moments, he swore, did last forever. When the pain subsided to a dull ache, he wasn't even in the exam room anymore, but he could not remember the move. He was in a wide recovery room, but there was no one else there right now. When he peeled his eyes open and began to move his aching body bit by bit, he looked around and sighed. At least when there were others around, he had someone to talk to.

There was always the sound of movement behind closed doors, indiscernible voices and the hum of machinery. The little machines recording his vitals beeped every now and again as well.

Deor could hardly move. Everything in his body was leaden, like he was drowning in an ocean and no longer had the energy to swim. Not that he had ever seen the ocean before. There were a few older kids from Four who had told them about it, about how it was as blue as the sky but sparkled like a gem.

It sounded nice. They described what it was like to flounder in the sea as well, how the waves would cruelly drag the weak and the weary under the water and that the cold silence would become your tomb. Still, it sounded nice, different.

All Deor had ever known were these sharp edged walls of stone, the mountains that surrounded the Capitol, which gleamed like a diamond ring. There was a lake, but it was a bluish grey and it reflected the light of the buildings but never glimmered.

His thoughts swirled in his mind. They drifted from lakes and oceans to the odd tasting stew they ate last night, which the District 6 kids loved, and to the amber liquid that he had once seen them slip into his arm during one of these procedures. He wasn't supposed to see it, but he did and it was a lovely, hateful shade of dark gold, the rich dark amber of the sweet honey he sometimes ate with fruit at home.

It wasn't supposed to burn his insides. It still ached a bit in his belly, but he couldn't even move yet to try and soothe it. Sometimes rubbing it helped, or moving into a different position. Deor breathed unevenly and closed his eyes. Maybe he could sleep it off.

The sudden hiss of the doors opening caught his attention minutes later. He opened his eyes wearily, if only so that he wouldn't be caught off guard the next time they came to collect him.

Instead of seeing a tall adult in a white coat and wide goggles, he saw a short boy with tousled dark hair and clothes that came from the _outside-_outside, from the world behind the mountains.

Deor's eyes widened and he urged his body to move, but all he could do was twitch his fingers and move his head for now, even though the restraints were gone. The small, thin boy had a dirty, wild look to him. Deor had seen a few kids like that, like the kid from Eleven or the ones from Six.

The boy caught sight of him and panic instantly flickered across his face, but Deor greeted him with the most pleasant smile he could manage in his state. It must have looked a little funny, because the boy grimaced and glared at him before running towards him, snatching something off a countertop.

Deor wanted to call out to him, but his throat was dry and burned. He followed the boy's steps as he moved through the room.

When the boy turned to him, Deor blinked. He had dark, dusty hair that looked like a clump of hay, but his eyes were a deep green. Deor only saw them for a moment before the doors hissed open and the scientists came inside, immediately shouting at the boy who rolled in from the outside world.

He ran, taking off across the room for the other door.

Deor closed his eyes and wondered if they would end up in the same dormitory.

* * *

Deor's a funny name, it's pronounced "der" instead of "day-or". I didn't make it up, in case you were wondering.

Real chapters are longer and more detailed than this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Preserved Roses**

Chapter Summary: The newest addition is the boy who Deor saw running through the recovery room the other day. Even though he has been sorted into their group, personalities clash and Deor finds himself stuck in the middle of two conflicting sides.

Notes: Hope these temp chapters don't become a reoccurring thing. Please submit characters? I can't write this story in full into I have enough.

* * *

**Chapter 2:** Thoughtless Heat

Deor was different from the rest. There were other children with blond hair and blue or grey eyes, other children who liked to chatter and befriend everyone who came through these doors. They were treated the same by the researchers and had to dress in the same loose, white clothes. Those in his age group all slept together, ate together, and trained together.

There were differences between them, of course, all most apparent in the first year or so that they were here. After a while, the little quirks from their lives in the Districts - the preference for fish or a certain fruit, the constant talking of the ocean or the mountains or the forests - seeped from their day-to-day routines. There were those who went home for a single week out of the year, others who stayed, and every now and again they gained a new member.

Deor wasn't that different from the rest. And yet, when he walked among them at times, all he received were cautionary glares and shuffling feet. He knew that it was because he was from the Capitol itself, because he had not been born into misfortune and poverty like they had been.

At that point in the history of the Institute, there were only two others who came from the Capitol like Deor. One was much older, a girl who he had seen only a handful of times, and the other was a boy his age called Sylfum.

Sylfum never spoke much. Deor would never have thought that the silent boy originally came from the Capitol, but the kids from the Districts avoided him like the plague, too.

When Sylfum did talk, it was to say things like, "Stop slouching. You look like a sloth."

Deor frowned and turned towards the other boy. "How do you even know what a sloth looks like?"

"They're lazy and hang from trees all day."

"That didn't answer my question."

Anyone observing them probably thought that they were arguing all the time. At first, Deor had thought that, too. It was incredibly hard to get Sylfum to respond to anything he said. Sylfum had to be the one who started and ended every conversation they had, even if they ran out of things to say after a while.

"How would you know if I'm right or not? You've never seen one either."

Deor huffed and turned away with his arms crossed.

That was how they passed their days.

But on this day, he woke up to find Sylfum leaning over him, close enough for the strands of his long, dark hair to brush Deor's face. He blinked. "Wha-?"

"New kid," Sylfum said. "You mentioned one the other day?"

Deor nodded and rolled out of the low bed, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Did he pass the test?"

He received no answer, but if Sylfum was asking about the issue, it must have meant that the boy passed the "entrance test". Deor could barely remember his own, which had taken place a little over a year ago, but the adults made a huge deal of it.

Deor glanced around, finding that the others were gone or stirring from their sleep. It was a weekend, so none of them had to be up at seven o' clock sharp. He smiled to himself as he haphazardly tossed his sheets back into place.

"Let's go meet him!"

"No."

Sylfum turned around and stalked off, his taller form held high. Deor chased at his heels, but he didn't slow down. "Why not?"

"What's so special about another one of us? It's always the same. I heard that he's throwing a fit down the hall."

"Really?" Deor said excitedly, turning around abruptly. "We have to go see!"

"Have fun."

Deor frowned again. Oh well. He shrugged and ran down the aisle, towards the heavy doors on the other side. Just as he was about to pull them open, he heard the groan of the hinges and backpedaled in surprise. He was too late, it seemed, to avoid the figure that came flying straight at him.

"Woah!"

Deor was sent tumbling to the ground, a heavy weight draped over his body as he groaned and tried to roll away. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a familiar green pair of eyes.

"It's you!"

The District boy growled and leaped off him with tense muscles and a frantic gaze. He was cleaner now, dressed in the same white outfit that they all wore, but his hair was just as messy and dark splotches of bruises dotted his bare arms.

"What's your name?" Deor said excitedly. "I'm Deor!"

"What kinda name is that?" the other boy hissed, his voice low and flighty as he glanced over his shoulder. He started, but Deor had him cornered.

"Where are you from? Six, Two? Or maybe Four? No, not Four, your hair is-"

"Go away!"

The strange boy pushed Deor aside, but he didn't lose his balance so easily this time. However, when Deor turned, he saw that Sylfum now blocked his path.

The other Capitol boy crossed his arms and glared at the new boy.

"You'll wake the others up with your screaming. Why don't you just accept the fact that you're here and you're here to stay? You aren't going home. Ever."

Deor blinked in confusion. That wasn't true-

"L-liar!" the District boy shouted. "I hate it here! They can't make me stay!"

"They aren't going to let you go," Sylfum growled. "Not even if you scream. Not even if you beg."

"You don't know that!"

"Yeah, I do. Deor and I know. We're both from the Capitol. This is in the Capitol, right? And we haven't gone home, even though our homes aren't that far away."

That quieted the other boy for all of thirty seconds; Deor counted. Then he tackled Sylfum to the ground.

Deor's eyes widened, but he broke out into laughter.

Well, it could have gone worse.

* * *

I didn't make Sylfum up either. If you didn't notice, there's a trend between the names of Sylfum, Deor, and Frey (the unnamed boy in this chapter). Do you know what it is?


End file.
